


Vocabulary

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [9]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, M/M, Schmoop, Skellies in love, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus, Underswap Papyrus, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Serein (n.) (French) refers to rain falling from a cloudless sky. This sort of rain is said to take on the form of a fine, light drizzle, typically after dusk.





	1. Serein

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hj-skb also did some lovely art for this chapter, please, [go check it out!](https://hj-skb.tumblr.com/post/176259354354/a-pic-set-inspired-by-keelywolfes-fic-serein)

* * *

“Stretch, would you—” Edge trailed off, the ‘set the table’ going unspoken as he frowned at the empty sofa. Not ten minutes earlier Stretch had been laying on it, watching television, and now it was empty.

Going back into the kitchen, he put lids on the pans and turned off the stove, taking off his apron before beginning his search. Not that he was worried, Stretch wouldn’t have gone too far with dinner nearly finished, but—

Stretch had been quiet lately. Not overwhelmingly so, not depressively, not unbearably; not the sort of quiet that had Edge baking enough to start his own patisserie in an effort to tempt him into eating. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t, but the Monsters at the embassy always enjoyed their share of his largess.

No, he was eating normally and spending time in his lab, only Stretch was a little…subdued, perhaps. The weight of the past few weeks may have been pulling on him; Edge didn’t know because that would mean Stretch would have to _talk_ to him about it and that was as likely as, well. As likely as Edge talking about it, and wasn’t that a point of frustration, that the one commonality they had was bottling up their emotions.

He supposed it was better than smoking.

But it was a little cloudy outside, hinting at rain, and it was getting dark. So he went in search of his wayward lover, intent on bringing him back to their waiting dinner.

He didn’t have to travel far.

Pushing aside the curtains at their back porch, Edge caught sight of him through the sliding glass door. He pulled it open and stepped outside into the rising humidity, more than a little curious. Edge watched him from beneath the protective overhang of the roof silently, taking it in.

Stretch was standing in the fine mist of rain, his face tilted up to the sky and his hands outstretched. Sockets closed and his teeth parted while wet rivulets trailed down his skull and dripped from his jaw, falling to his already sodden sweatshirt. Sunlight was still cutting through the patchy drizzle and the touch of it gilded his skull, gleamed over his damp hands and for one brief moment, it lit him with golden light. 

Then the faint misty rain stopped as quickly as it had started and Stretch blinked, wiping uselessly at his damp face with an equally wet hand. He turned just enough to see Edge and gave him a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“just felt like being outside,” Stretch told him. Water was still dripping down his skull in fat droplets.

“Did you?” Edge asked softly and Stretch nodded, sending a patter of drips flying.

“i don’t regret being up here, you know,” he said clearly. He turned back to the sky where the sun was falling lower, painting the clouds in shades of purple, draping its vast domain in the colors of royalty. “even with everything that’s been happening, i don’t want to be anywhere else.”

The thought of being back in Underfell without Stretch was not one that Edge wanted to entertain. Being anywhere else would mean not being with him, and perhaps that was selfish, to know that even if he had the choice to return home, he wouldn’t take it. But when he looked at Stretch, damp with rain and standing in the faltering sunlight, he knew there wasn’t a choice, after all.

The sun was hovered on the edge of the horizon, dipping lower, and Stretch was watching it, his head tilted slightly and all the hues the sunset had to offer falling over him. Edge walked up to stand next to him and gently took his damp hand, threading their fingers together.

“it really is beautiful up here,” Stretch sighed, “it’s better up here.”

Edge didn’t look away from him. “It is,” he said honestly.

It was.

-finis-


	2. Trouvaille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouvaille: (n.) (French) a lucky find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hj-skb also did some lovely art for this chapter, please, [go check it out!](https://hj-skb.tumblr.com/post/176259354354/a-pic-set-inspired-by-keelywolfes-fic-serein)

* * *

“hey, lucy, i’m ho—" 

His words died almost as they were spoken when Stretch took in the unfamiliar scene before him. Edge, sprawled out on the sofa and sound asleep. He was still in his day off clothes, jeans and a black shirt, one arm draped over his head. His gloves were off, his hand open and fingers loosely curled. The smooth line of his body relaxed in a way that Stretch rarely saw him.

Fuck, he was gorgeous.

Stretch had pretty much let Edge do all the interior decorating when they’d moved in together, since Stretch’s only requirements for a living space were a roof and a television. It had worked out okay; Edge had had a lot of things to say about their sofa, the pattern, the color, the density of the cushions. That was fine, Stretch had pretended he cared but really, it was a place to put your bones. Stretch had only one caveat about the thing. It needed to be long enough for him to sleep on which by default made it long enough for Edge to sleep on. Luckily for him, Edge had been up to the challenge.

Stretch toed off his shoes, leaving them piled messily by the door for Edge to gripe at him about later and sat down on the coffee table to watch Edge sleep. It was a nice opportunity to store up some spank bank material for when his lover was out of town.

He always had to wear those clothes that clung to his bones, the gorgeous bastard, an enticing hint of his pelvis showing between the gap in his jeans and his shirt. His other hand was resting on his chest, the bones of it strong and scarred, and fucking hell if Stretch didn’t love those hands. Loved the way they made him feel, loved them touching him, loved kissing those scarred knuckles and knowing that Edge had healed all the stronger from his wounds. Sometimes it felt good to know Edge could protect them if needs be; not that Stretch could ever tell him that, all hells no, he’d never live it down.

There was a bruise on his cheekbone that was going to be cause for questions later but eh, he’d been at the Y today. Who knew what the hell he’d gotten up to with those hooligans? So long as they hadn’t left enough evidence to be questioned about later, it was all good.

Edge was almost silent in sleep, his chest rising softly and falling, taking his hand along for the ride. Ironic to come home and Edge was the one asleep. Was it ironic? Meh, he was terrible at the vocabulary shit, give him a math problem any day. Irony was a bitch, skip it; role reversal, go with that.

Propping his chin on his hands, Stretch drank in the sight of his lover, remembering when he’d first seen Edge. All of them had been disoriented and confused, the sciency sides of their brotherly duos trying to figure out what the fuck had happened and then here was this asshole. Arrogant and obnoxious and sexy as all fuck…right up until Stretch had seen his LV. 

Oh, yeah, they’d gotten along swell at first. 

Stretch frowned, suddenly noticing that Edge was still wearing his boots. That was not normal; Edge was scrupulously and annoyingly tidy. The bruise seemed abruptly more ominous and his urge to wake his lover hit critical.

"babe?” Stretch whispered, then a little louder, “edge?”

Unthinkingly, Stretch reached out and laid a hand on Edge’s ribs and instantly his wrist was caught in a hard grip. _Shit, stupid, stupid,_ he winced, trying not to pull away because that would make it worse. He held as still as possible, not reacting to the pain as Edge’s eye lights came in to focus, sharpening in recognition. His grip lightened instantly but Stretch didn’t pull away. His fault, now he got to deal with the fallout.

“Did I hurt you?” Edge sat up and even with him inspecting Stretch’s wrist like he was prospecting for gold wasn’t enough of a distraction that he couldn’t admire the fluid way Edge went from ‘sleeping’ to 'ready to fuck something up’. It was a gift, really, Stretch needed fifteen minutes and a cup of coffee to reboot into awake mode.

“nah,” Stretch lied and they both knew it for a lie. Edge gave him a look, one that said he was not fooled but was going to allow it this time, only there was going to be a lecture on how not to touch him when he was sleeping unless they’d fallen asleep together because blah blah, warrior reflexes and shit, Stretch had all of this written down in his mental essay of Edge’s Top Ten Lectures, alongside 'Where Not To Leave Dirty Dishes’ and 'Why Smoking Was Horrible And You Should Quit’. Now seemed like a good place for a timely distraction.

Carefully, Stretch reached out and traced a finger over Edge’s bruised cheekbone. “pretty sure I would have remembered seeing this over cheerios this morning. what happened?”

Edge didn’t pull away, sighing irritably, “What happened is I need to practice with Undyne more. Sitting at a desk is doing my reflexes no favors." 

"you’re spending too much time with me if you’re getting to the answering questions without answering them stage,” Stretch grumbled, “i thought practicing with this undyne made you uncomfortable.”

“That’s no excuse.” Edge cradled Stretch’s wrist in his hands. “She’s so much like my Undyne and yet not,” Edge said, softly. “In my world, Undyne would have been training me and here it’s the reverse. I’m growing accustomed to it.”

Stretch shrugged. Not that he had anything to offer; this world’s Undyne was so different from his own it was actually easier for him, more like a distant relative than a mirror of his friend. It was like hanging out with Sans or Red, both of whom were nothing like his bro.

“At any rate, I wasn’t trying to prevaricate. I took a basketball to the face due to an unlucky combination of distraction and an unskilled player…why are you sitting on the coffee table?” Edge asked abruptly, scowling.

Oops, busted. “why are you wearing your boots inside?” Stretch countered because a good defense was a good offense…wait, was that right? Fuck it, close enough. "and i’m on the coffee table because you’re in my spot.“

"Please don’t pretend that you have any concern about the carpet,” Edge snorted. “If you want your spot, come get it.”

Well, that was an offer if he’d ever heard one. Stretch sprawled out next to him happily, wrapping his arms around him and tangling their legs together. “try not to beat me up.” Edge tensed sharply and Stretch could have slapped his own careless mouth. “that was a joke, asshole, laugh.”

“Ha. Ha.” Edge deadpanned. Good enough. 

Stretch snuggled in closer, sighing, because Edge was warm and wonderful, and those well-loved hands were easing beneath his shirt, sharp fingertips stroking lightly over his ribs, soothingly gentle.

“love you, babe,” Stretch murmured sleepily.

“I know,” Edge whispered back because he was an asshole and knew it would make Stretch snicker.

“go back to sleep, han.” Stretch burrowed into Edge’s arms and took his own advice.

-finis-


	3. Nyctophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyctophilia (n.) (English) Love of darkness or night; finding relaxation and comfort in the darkness.

* * *

When he first opened the door, the first thing Edge did was nearly trip over the shoes. He managed to navigate around them and closed the front door, taking in the scene in front of him in silence.

There was a line of shoes and boots laid out in neat rows and behind them was a shoe rack. Along with an umbrella, several coats, a plastic bin of winter scarves and mittens, a baseball bat and glove, a bowling ball bag with a pair of bowling shoes on top of it, several hats including a fedora that Edge was fairly sure actually belong to Sans, and a vacuum cleaner. Essentially, the entire contents of the front room closet.

He looked at the pile for a long moment then knocked gently on the closet door.

"what?" Muffled through the door but definitely recognizable. 

Edge hesitated, considering and discarding several questions before he finally went with, "Are you all right in there?"

"yeeeees." As if he wasn’t sure of the answer. "i needed to be someplace dark for a while."

Edge nodded to himself. He nudged a pair of boots with the tip of his toe, idly thinking they could use a polish. "Did you want something to drink?"

A long silence, then, "yes, please."

He nodded again, relieved. That was a good sign. "Orange juice or water?"

"can i have tea?" Ah, even better, making a choice of his own. Not too bad, then.

"Of course," Edge told him. He stepped over the bowling bag and went to the kitchen to make it. Busied himself with getting down a large mug while he waited for the water to heat, something easier to hold in the darkness than a cup and saucer. When it was properly brewed, he added a generous but not ridiculous measure of honey, stirring it well and carrying the mug to the closet. He knocked again, gently, and the door opened just enough for a hand to reach out.

He handed Stretch the mug, resisting the temptation to touch him, and the door closed again.

"thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, softly, to the closed door, smiling a little. Oddly mannerly on an odd day but it was all right. Stretch would come out when he was ready.

* * *

Stretch didn't knock, opening the door carefully. The room was dark, the furniture little more than ghostly outlines. Behold the glory of room-darkening curtains; Edge had insisted and at the time, Stretch hadn't given two shits about curtains or even a shit and a half. He was plenty grateful now, stepping silently into the room as his eye lights adjusted to the darkness, taking in the blanketed lump on the bed that was his lover. 

Normally, the crack in his socket didn't bother Edge, or if it did, he didn't say fuck all about it. Rarely, though, there were days like this where even the littlest bit of light sent throbbing agony through his skull. Not that he described it like that, but hell, Stretch happily claimed the title of idiot but he wasn't stupid, thank you. He knew.

It would pass, it always did, but that was no fucking comfort to Stretch right now when he was helpless to do anything about it.

When Alphys had checked him over after the first episode, (at Stretch's insistence and Edge had been a complete dick the entire time they were there, snarling and grouchy. Stretch had owed some seriously rare manga from that experience) she'd told them it was similar to a migraine, a kind of headache that some Humans and Monsters alike went through, or so she said, anyway, what the fuck did Stretch know about it, he was a shitty healer.

Shitty healer but an excellent researcher and all his research into migraines had taught him was that he couldn't do a fucking thing to help.

He hated this.

The lump on the bed made a faint sound and Stretch took a hesitant step forward, asking in a hushed voice, "do you need anything?"

Edge didn't move, "Just to sleep."

Yeah, okay. That was fine, it was good. Stretch could let him do that and he'd just go downstairs and wait. He'd wait and everything was going to be fine and he'd check back in a couple hours. Maybe an hour, he wouldn't wake Edge if he only peeked in, he'd check on him and make sure everything was still fine and yeah. That was good. It would be good. "okay, you…do that. sleep."

He turned to go and Edge stirred. "Are you leaving?"

Stretch hesitated, "do you want me to stay?"

A long moment of silence and then, "Can you lay down on the bed but not touch me?"

Yep. That he could do. Carefully, Stretch settled on top of the blankets, leaving a good foot of space between them. "like this?" he whispered as softly as he could.

He caught a red gleam of eye lights before Edge closed his sockets again. "Yes. Please."

That seemed to be about all the energy he had and Edge fell back asleep almost immediately.

Stretch held as still as he could, clasping his own hands together. His thoughts were rowdy, crowding in his brain, clamoring for attention but he ignored it all for a moment, pushing aside the twisting rambles and watching his lover sleep.

-finis-


	4. Sobremesa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sobremesa (n.) (spanish) lit. " _over the table_ ". the time spent after eating, talking to people you shared the meal with to savor not just the food but the companionship as well.

* * *

_**Yahtzee** _

Edge set a tray on the end of the coffee table and Jeff looked over in interest. Dinner had been amazing and dessert was looking equally so, little tarts of some sort with an assortment of fillings. He must've looked hopeful because Edge gave him an impatient sort of wave towards the tray. 

Didn't have to tell him twice. Jeff gingerly picked up one that was glistening with a deep yellow filling and popped it into his mouth, unable to hold back a groan as the taste of sweet lemon burst over his tongue. Edge was a culinary artist, that was for damn sure.  
Neither of them looked at the two squabbling at the end of the table.

"Why are they arguing?" Edge asked resignedly. 

Jeff swallowed thickly, sighing contentedly. Good stuff. "Stretch wants to weigh the dice."

"He's not weighing the fucking dice," Antwan snapped. "No. No, no, no, I don't fucking trust him!"

"i need to weigh the dice!" Stretch whined, flopping back onto the floor. "it's scientifically impossible that all the dice weigh the same, i need to know their exact weights, how am i supposed to play this if i don’t know their weights?"

"If I may," Edge broke in. "This is Jeff's first time playing with us. Let him decide."

Jeff froze, another tart halfway to his mouth as two pleading faces instantly turned towards him. He looked at Edge, who looked back at him, brow bone raised. As if this was a perfectly reasonable solution and he hadn't just thrown Jeff to the metaphorical wolves. "Uh."

"Don't let him, sweetheart," Antwan warned. "It's a bad idea."

"c'mon, andy, we're pals!" Stretch crawled over to him, gazing up at him earnestly. "it's for science!"

"It's Jeff, you shit, quit it!"

"Well…" Jeff hesitated, weakening. "If it's for science…"

"yes!" Stretch crowed, even as Antwan groaned. "we have a scale up here, don't we, babe?"

"It's in the kitchen." Edge climbed to his feet and went to retrieve it, leaving Stretch behind to gloat triumphantly.

Antwan was glaring at him, his expression declaring without words that Jeff's sexual satisfaction for the next few nights was hinged on whether or not he'd made the right choice. "Oh come on," Jeff defended himself, "how is weighing the dice going to help him? He's not capable of athletic feats, I've seen him walk."

"hey!

_Fifteen minutes later._

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Jeff mumbled.

"I don't even think there's such a thing as quintuple Yahtzee," Antwan grumbled. The stubby pencil had long ago been abandoned when it had become clear that without direct intervention from nature or God, no one else was going to win.

"science," Stretch said gleefully, shaking the dice in his little cup.

Antwan glared at Edge and demanded, "Will you make him stop?"

Edge shrugged and just as Stretch was about to roll the dice, he leaned over and whispered something against his skull. Immediately, his entire face went bright orange and the dice scattered. 

The game went from Yahtzee to an impromptu round of find the dice, and it was Jeff who found the last one after Stretch stood up and it fell out of his shirt with a weird rattle. 

"Guess we're finished with that game," Jeff tossed the die into the box.

"Get rid of it, send it to burn in hell with Monopoly," Antwan grumbled and Edge shook his head.

"I'd like to remind you all that this wasn't my idea," Edge said as he set the box aside. "Now what would you like to try?"

* * *

_**Parcheesi** _

"Hey!" Antwan sat up straight, glaring across the table at Edge. "Why do you always put your left hand under the table when it's your turn?"

Jeff and Stretch blinked at each other and turned to look at Edge. Whose left hand was under the table and who had three of his four pieces sitting smugly in the home spot while the rest of them all had two or less. Jeff still had one piece sitting pathetically in the Start spot. The dice didn't seem to have forgiven him yet for his grievous error earlier. 

Edge looked back at Antwan coolly. "Are you accusing me of cheating?"

"Yes, I fucking am!" Antwan growled. 

Edge nodded. "It's about time you noticed, I've been doing it since the first round. In Underfell, anyone would have insisted on both hands on the table at the beginning of the game. Don't blame me for your trusting nature."

Stretch and Jeff watched mutely as the board sailed across the room, one of the little wooden pieces bouncing off Stretch's forehead with a _dok_ sound that was nearly overshadowed by the shouting.

"I'm guessing that one goes in the 'no' pile." Jeff said, picking one of the pieces out of his hair.

"eh, it was boring anyway," Stretch grinned, slouching to rest his chin on his hand while he watched Edge and Antwan argue. "this is more fun."

* * *

_**Risk** _

"No."

"But we—

"no."

"I just wanted—"

"No. Put it back in the box."

Sigh. "You guys are no fun."

* * *

_**Cluedo** _

"please, just pick one," Antwan begged. His voice was muffled as his face was currently buried into his arms in a flawless pose of despair. 

"This is important," Jeff insisted. 

"yeah, character is critical to this game," Stretch agreed. All the character cards were laid out in front of them, each colored plastic piece set in place as they debated the merits of starting positions.

"Want another drink?" Edge asked, holding up a bottle.

Antwan managed to hold up his empty glass without lifting his head. "Fuck yes. Make it a double." He downed it in one gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and sighing at the glorious burn. He gave Edge a sideways look. "What did you tell him to make him drop the dice, anyway?"

Edge smirked as he settled to sit on the floor again but before he could reply, Stretch was halfway into his lap, a hand over his mouth. "some things go beyond the boundaries of friendship," Stretch said primly, clinging as Edge tried to get free. "besides, it's too early on for you and andy to be trying that shit."

"Yeah, yeah," Antwan grumbled, "Okay, _Andy_ , you're Miss Scarlett, can we play the damn game?"

"Hm, roleplay, kinky," Jeff said blandly, breaking into snickers at the same time Stretch did. Edge silently poured Antwan another drink.

"fine, then, I'll be mrs white," Stretch giggled. "let's play."

-finis-


	5. Koi No Yokan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koi No Yokan (n.) (Japanese) lit. " _Premonition of Love_ "; the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prequel to the series that shows how our boys first met. Naturally, they get along like a house on fire...one that burned all the way to the ground and salted the earth.

* * *

It was late on the third day of their arrival and Papyrus was pacing again.

The Sanses were sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers filled with equations, messy writing and scribbles. It was obvious that the cheery little Blueberry one had little idea of what the other two were discussing and yet, he remained, listening intently as Sans…no. As Red and Sans spoke in words that Papyrus knew and yet he could hardly understand them, their scientific lingo beyond his comprehension.

The other Papyrus, their host, was sitting in one corner, his relentless cheer subdued as he considered fiercely. He was trying to think of nicknames, Papyrus knew. They'd all reluctantly agreed to allow their hosts to use their true names and the others had agreed to take nicknames. 

Sans, in a demonstration of clear disregard, had dubbed the other Sanses Red and Blue, and while his brother hadn't much cared, the little Blueberry had glowed in delight. That had led to the other Papyrus deciding he would find, according to him, the very best nicknames possible for his alternates, as though they were pets to be named.

It was disgusting. Papyrus's bones crawled and contempt lingered sourly in his throat, but for the moment, his options were limited.

This was their world and while Papyrus _might_ be able to overtake them, the effective word was might. Sans was LV 1 but then so was Red and Papyrus knew exactly what his brother was capable of. There were also the others to consider and though the cheery little Blueberry didn't seem like any more of a threat than his piece of shit brother, Papyrus had learned long ago the dangers of underestimating his opponents.

He stalked past the sofa again and nearly tripped over the third Papyrus, who was slouched back with his legs stretched out in front of him. Papyrus grimaced, appalled at his mental near-pun. This one had been agreeable to being called Stretch, as their host Papyrus had gleefully suggested. From the other's attitude, Papyrus suspected he would have answered to anything, so long as no one forced him to choose a name himself.

It was difficult to resist the urge to simply kick his legs out of the way. Difficult, but prudent; he'd Checked all of them when they'd arrived and this one had HP similar to his brother's. Instead, Papyrus snarled at him, "If you're just going to lie around, why don't you go someplace else and get out of the way of those of us who are trying to be useful!"

Stretch opened his sockets, barely, "if you're just going to be an asshole, why don't you fuck off someplace else and let the rest of us have some peace?"

Anger flared hotly and Papyrus caught him by the front of his sweatshirt, hauling him up, "What did you call me?"

It was difficult to say what was more disconcerting, the fact that a Monster with such low HP didn't so much as flinch away from him or his easy smirk. "careful there, lover. i like the rough stuff but if you dust me before midnight, all the other princesses will get jealous." 

Not in the least afraid; he didn't sound as if he even cared.

"play nice, you two," Came from the other side of the room and Papyrus glared daggers at their host...who also didn't flinch from him, his eye lights pale and steady. Yet another reason to be wary of these alternates, either they were insane or they had secrets that had yet to be revealed. His brother gave him a warning look, his eye lights dropping to where Papyrus was still holding the other Papyrus. They needed to be cautious, yes, until they knew what they were dealing with.

"we're fine," Stretch called to them. He tipped his head to the side, looking up at Papyrus, "aren't we, lover?"

"Stop," Papyrus ground out.

Stretch ran an orange tongue over his teeth, his voice low and unnervingly sultry, "oh come on, don’t pretend you don’t want it. after all, i’m you, and isn't yourself what you care about the most?"

That didn't bear answering; he didn’t owe this fool anything. Disgusted, Papyrus growled, "You are nothing like me."

To his dismay, the other only tipped his head back and laughed, the sound of it was chilling, wintry cold. Like nothing he’d heard from him and for the first time, Papyrus noticed that for all the time he’d been sleeping, the circles under Stretch's sockets were dark and deep. The Blueberry looked up in obvious concern, his chair creaking as he made to stand. Stretch quieted and gave his brother an easy smile, shaking his head. Blue didn’t look convinced but he settled back into his chair.

"no, i'm really not, i think that much is fucking obvious, killer. you gonna hold me up all night?" Stretch mocked. "gonna pluck me like a flower? he loves me, he loves me not."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Papyrus snarled, dropping him.

"so many things," he sighed. He pulled a silver lighter out of the front pocket of his hoodie, flipping it through his fingers with a light clatter. He spoke again, softly enough that Papyrus had to strain to hear him. "it doesn't matter what they do, we aren't going back home."

"What?" Papyrus leaned in, frowning.

"i've already gone through the equations. even if they could get the machine to work, there's no guarantee that there's a home to get back to." He flapped a limp hand around them. "this is the world now and we all get to live in it."

Papyrus didn't want to believe it, couldn't imagine why he should…and yet…he sank down to sit next to his alternate, giving the others a furtive look, "Why haven't you said something?" he hissed, low.

"eh, i'm not so great at giving bad news," Stretch shrugged. "look at them, though. sans already knows, but what the fuck does he care, this is his 'verse. he's just waiting for your bro to figure it out and he's getting there, but he's trying not to. it'll be a while."

Papyrus scowled; that made no sense. "Why wouldn't he want to—"

The other Papyrus gave him a withering look. "why do you think? so he doesn't have to tell you. what i can’t figure out is if it’s because he’s scared _of_ you or _for_ you." He smirked coldly, nudging him with an elbow. "go on, go tell him you know, confirm some theories for me."

Papyrus didn’t move.

Stretch sighed and shrugged, "okay, be that way. anyway, see you around, lover," he offered Papyrus a sour smile. "we're all gonna be here a while." He stood up and shuffled towards the table, his shoelaces trailing behind him. "sans?" Three skeletons looked up and Stretch snorted, shaking his head. "just the sans who can give me directions is fine. do they have cigarettes in this place or am i giving them up for lent?"

Sans looked at the others. At Red, who was still feverishly writing, at the Blueberry, who kept glancing at his brother, his starry eyes filled with concern. "yeah. c'mon, i’ll go with you."

He hopped down from his chair, zipping his hoodie, and Stretch followed him outside, neither of them so much as glancing behind them. Papyrus sat on the sofa, his thoughts churning nauseatingly, and he jerked when their host Papyrus stepped up next to him.

His eye lights never wavered, even as Papyrus had to dismiss the bone attack he'd automatically summoned. 

"I've decided on a nickname for you," Papyrus announced happily. There was something in his expression, some kind of determination that said he shouldn't be underestimated. Perhaps none of these others were as they appeared. "I think you should be Edge, since you are the Edgy version of me!" 

Ridiculous. He was the Great and Terrible Papyrus, he owed nothing to any of these fools. 

_This is the world and we all get to live in it._

"Fine," Papyrus, no, Edge said curtly. "That's fine."

Edge was just fine.

 

-finis-


	6. Vernorexia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vernorexia (n.) (English) a romantic mood inspired by spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: It's ninety degrees where I am right now. This is something of wishful thinking, lol!

* * *

"There is something wrong with you," Edge sighed, trudging after Stretch. This wasn't his normal way of spending a Tuesday or any day really. Walking along a muddy, frozen path at the nature preserve on a cold, clear morning was definitely outside of his norm.

"pfft, everyone knows that," Stretch scoffed. His tennis shoes were dark with sludge and he looked tired, but he kept on determinedly despite the mud sucking wetly at his shoes. "you can impress me with your knowledge when you come up with something no one knows. c'mon, it can't be much further."

"Why of all times did you choose to take an active interest in hiking now?" Edge grumbled. His own boots were more suited to the terrain but he kept to Stretch's slower pace. "It's thirty degrees out here."

Stretch stopped and gave him a sad look, shaking his head, "well, look at you using fahrenheit like some kind of heretic."

Oh, for-- "Fine. It’s about zero degrees out, can you please tell me precisely what are we doing out here?"

"it’s march 20th!" Stretch said brightly. Edge only stared at him uncomprehendingly and Stretch sighed in disappointment, "it's the first day of spring!" 

"Yes?" Edge agreed doubtfully. "What about it?"

"you’re supposed to go out and fuck amongst the flowers!" Stretch spread his arms wide as if showcasing the magnificence of the outdoors. "i read it online!"

Edge looked around them at the muddy, snowy terrain. Looked down at his filth-caked boots where he was buried to the toes in the slush. "Not likely."

With an impatient huff, Stretch dropped his arms. "okay, so we're a little short on flowers, i get it," He rubbed at his forehead, thinking, and announced, "we'll have to settle for a quickie in the car. we’re parked in the woods, it's close enough."

"There will be no fucking in my car," Edge informed him. He took Stretch's upper arm and pulled firmly, leading him back to way they'd come. It was something of a challenge; Stretch was digging in his heels and resisting. 

"fine, fine, just give me five minutes to jimmy the lock on someone else’s car!"

"We are not committing a felony for some obscure carnal ceremony you read about on the internet," Edge told him firmly. "If you want sex there are plenty of surfaces at our house we haven’t desecrated yet."

Stretch yelped as Edge scooped him up, turning back the way they'd come from and trudging down the path. Stretch sulked in his arms, slouching and refusing to hold on. "i want to desecrate new places!"

"I’ll rent a hotel room."

"you're no fun."

Edge stopped, glaring down at his pouting lover. "Fine."

He dropped Stretch's legs back to the ground, muddy sneakers dragging as he pushed Stretch up against a tree with rough, icy bark and started pulling up his sweatshirt. His startled shriek as his bare bones pressed against it was embarrassingly shrill. "okay, okay, stop, you're right, stop! fuck me, it's c-c-cold!"

"Zero degrees," Edge reminded him. He tugged Stretch's sweatshirt back into place, noting his shivering with a frown. With brisk movements, he tugged off his own scarf and wrapped it completely around Stretch's neck and skull before lifting him back up. "Come on, sweetheart. We can celebrate spring with a warm bath and a hot drink."

Stretch snuggled in against him. He wrapped his arms around Edge's neck and tucked his chilly fingers inside the collar of his coat, making him stifle an embarrassing yelp of his own. "guess we can start our own traditions. can we have cocoa with marshmallows?"

"Definitely," Edge agreed and started walking, Stretch's light weight easy in his arms. Despite their chilly surroundings, he was already contemplating Stretch in a sudsy bath, flushed with warmth and his kisses chocolaty-sweet. 

It seemed like a perfectly lovely way to welcome spring to him. 

-finis-


End file.
